


Sally Jackson and the Earthshaker

by Anny (CupcakeGirlA)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/Anny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How it all began. Sally meets Poseidon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sally Jackson and the Earthshaker

Sally Jackson is not like other girls her age. By 18 she lives alone in Manhattan. She works two jobs, goes to school, and has seen things her whole life that most others don’t. 

When she’d been young, she’d been told it was her imagination playing tricks on her. She’d tried to tell her parents what she saw, but her parents had been busy, working around the clock to support the family. They’d loved her but had little time to listen to a child’s whimsical imaginings. Sally had often pointed out the strange things she sometimes saw on the streets of New York, but her mother always told her to hush-up. She didn’t have time for Sally’s “tall tales.” Her father had always smiled and patted her on the head, “what an imagination,” he’d say. Sally learned quickly that adults never believed her. So she tried hard to not notice the strange things going on around her. She trained herself to keep her eyes down, trained straight ahead on the sidewalk in front of her. This lessened the chance of her seeing the monsters. 

Monsters. That’s what she calls them. They are strange beings: things with extra arms or horns or fangs. Some are unnatural hybrids of human and animal. Sometimes they only have one eye, sometimes a couple of extra ones. At 12 she’d have sworn on a bible that she’d seen a boy being chased by a flying beast that she just knew was a dragon. She had rushed home after school, sure it had caused enough damage to get on the evening news, but all there was was a story about an unnaturally strong wind that had whipped through the city breaking windows and hurling trashcans across streets and into parked cars. She’d barely slept for days afterward, huddling under her covers at night, flinching at every bang or loud yell outside her window and cowering from every shadow on her wall. 

But then the spring she turned 18 her parents died. Plane crash. And it doesn’t matter that her parents didn’t believe her about the monsters. They’re gone. But the monsters are still there. 

She develops a routine, a way of keeping herself safe and out of trouble. She walks home from class or work the same way every night. She knows this makes her predictable, but she’s also notices that the monsters seem to stay out of the most crowded public spaces. If she keeps to the busy bustling places, takes public transportation as much as possible, and doesn’t linger, she can make it home without even once crossing the path of one of those… things. Her friends call her paranoid. 

“No one is going to mug you, Sally! You don’t look like you have money, and the muggers always go for the richies and the tourists. You’re neither. You don’t need to freak out each time you step out on the street!” Becky tells her. But Sally just shrugs her shoulders and smiles. 

“You can never be too careful,” she replies, subtlety steering them all across the street. There is a dog much too big to be a ‘normal’ dog sniffing at the garbage cans a block up, and she wants to avoid it if she can. It’s red glowing eyes are kind of terrifying. Her friends roll their eyes, but follow along with her, used to her quirkiness.

When Sally is 20, and just a year and a half short of finishing her English degree, her entire world is turned upside down. The girls get together and pool their resources. They rent a beach house, out in Montauk for winter break. It’s out on the eastern tip of Long Island, right on the ocean. They convince Sally to come with them, only asking her to fork over a few bucks for gas and to pay for her own meals. It’s the last big winter blow out. Half of them are graduating in May, the other half the following year. It’s their last chance to all hang out together. 

But Sally knows her friends. She knows Vanessa and Trini’s boyfriends will show up. She also knows that Becky and June will not be alone for long. It might not be the height of party season, being mid-December, but Sally doubts they’ll spend a blissful week lounging around the beach house reading, with no male company. But that doesn’t interest Sally. She’s too cautious, too careful to let go like that. Instead she packs a bunch of books to read. She’s taking Myth and the Archetype next semester, and there are a thousand books she’ll need to have read. A few days reading and catching up on some sleep sounds just like what she needs. 

The beach is beautiful. The sea is dark, and wild, in the midst of a December storm. They ride up the coast and Sally’s eyes are glued to the waves the entire way. Becky sits beside her, Trini on her other side, in the backseat of Vanessa’s borrowed Pontiac. Becky is looking a little green and leans listlessly against Trini’s shoulder. 

“Are we there yet? I don’t understand how people ride in these things for so long. I feel like I’m going to hurl!” she moans. Her NYC raised stomach unable to cope with riding in a car. Sally shakes her head, spying her own reflection in the window beside her. She doesn’t understand how Becky can handle hurdling around the underbelly of NYC in a packed subway car, but can’t handle a simple car ride.

“We have to be getting close. You’ll be ok. This was your idea, remember?” she teases. Becky smacks her weakly in the thigh. 

“Shut up, Sally,” she says quietly, “and stop watching those waves! How can you stand it? All that back and forth motion, counter to the cars forward momentum…” she trails off, pressing one hand to her mouth and moaning again. She buries her head in Trini’s shoulder again, and Sally rolls her eyes. 

“Why don’t you try a little bit harder to talk yourself into throwing up there Becks. I’m sure you can do it if you really give it a go,” Sally teases. Trini glares at her, over Becky’s head, before grinning widely, all while rubbing Becky’s back and offering her murmured words of comfort. 

The house is gorgeous, just a few dozen yards from the beach. It’s big, but worn, like it’s seen better days, and is badly in need of a carpenter and a deep clean. The skies open up and cold winter rain pours down on them just as they park. The girls grab up their bags, screeching as the cold rain soaked into their jeans and their sweaters. They run for the front door, shivering under the porch roof, while Vanessa unlocks the door to let them inside. Sally claims a small front bedroom on the second floor. It’s got a great view of the water, and will let in plenty of morning light. Usually there’d be a fight for that room, but Vanessa and Trini claim the rooms on the opposite side of the second floor. They have queen size beds instead of doubles, and western facing windows. Sally idly thinks that should help them sleep late in the mornings while they recover from their hangovers. 

Becky collapses in the first floor living room, too tired to move any further she says, and claims it for her own. June gets stuck with the attic room, a tiny little bedroom formed where the two sloped sides of the roof come together. It has a small window on each wall and a twin bed. She makes a face at it but decides not to fight. It’s not in June’s personality to fight with them over something so small. It just isn’t her way. 

They’re all in their separate rooms unpacking when the lights flicker and go out. A stampede follows as everyone on the upper floors run to get back down to the ground level. Sally launches herself for the stairs, and nearly goes down, as Vanessa careens around the corner behind her. The lighting flashes outside and lights their giggling journey back down the stairs to the main level. 

They spend the evening wrapped up in blankets, eating snack foods they’d packed before leaving the city, and telling ghost stories. It reminds Sally of being a little girl, and seeing the monsters. She sits in the corner, pressing her back against the wall next to the fireplace where they have a fire going. She has her legs pulled up and her face buried between them. The bad memories, all the monsters she’s seen over the years, keep flashing through her head, and she can’t seem to make them stop. She rests her head on her folded arms and closes her eyes. 

“Hey, Sal, you ok?” Vanessa asks, reaching over to touch her shoulder. Sally nods. 

“Just tired I guess. I worked that double last night,” she says. Vanessa nods. 

“Why don’t you go on up and get some sleep? Here you can take the flashlight,” she offers it over. Sally nods, taking it and climbing to her feet. She bids everyone good night, and slowly climbs the stairs. She wants a long uninterrupted sleep.

She wakes suddenly in late morning. The sun is pouring through the window, and she hears screaming from outside. The sound has Sally sitting bolt upright, and panting hard. She flings away the covers, and goes to the window. She spots Becky and Trini down on the beach, They’re running back and forth, being chased by boys, that Sally vaguely recognizes as Trini’s boyfriend Nick, and his twin brother Eric. Sally takes a deep calming breath, watching Trini get pelted with a handful of sand, and scream bloody murder in response. Sally rolls her eyes, and turns at a knock on the door. The door opens and June sticks her head inside. 

“Oh good you’re awake! We thought you needed to sleep. But we saved you a few pancakes down in the kitchen and there’s fresh coffee,” she says with a smile. Sally grins at her. 

“I guess the power came back on?” she asks. June nods. 

“Yes, around 7 this morning. Just in time to startle most of us awake. Becky apparently had the TV on last night when the power went out. It blasted us all out of a dead sleep. Vanessa was glad though, she had just enough time to blow dry her hair before Ryan got here. Now come on, get dressed and come eat. It’s time to have some fun!” 

The previous days storms have gone, leaving a clear blue cloudless sky, and a calm sea. The sun is shining brilliantly of the white beach, and Sally stares out the front window in the kitchen while she drinks her coffee, breathing in the stillness. Her heart catches in her throat a moment later, when a hundred yards out she spots the monster. At first she thinks it’s a whale or a dolphin, but no that is definitely a tentacle. Like a huge octopus is hanging out just off shore. Sally is suddenly incredibly grateful it’s December and much too cold for swimming. She sets her coffee mug down in the sink, and looks out again, trying to spot it, but it’s gone. She half convinces herself it was just her tired eyes playing tricks, but the cold shiver going down her spine tells her otherwise. 

Becky bounces into the kitchen, covered in sand and giggling, and drags Sally out into the sunshine. 

They spend hours on the beach. They play Frisbee, and volleyball. It’s cool, but not freezing down by the water. June drags Sally down to the sand, and they search for shells to take home as mementos. Sally goes, but refuses to get her feet wet. June rolls her eyes but walks along beside her, dipping her toes into the water from time to time and then squealing at the cold temperature. 

By later afternoon, most everyone has had enough of the sand and the sun, and they head inside to get showered and dressed. Vanessa’s boyfriend, Ryan proclaims that it is time to party, and that they’re going into town, drinks on the guys. Sally begs off, curling up on the porch swing with a book on Greek mythology and a cup of tea. Nick teases her about being a bookworm, but Trini smacks him in the back of the head. They get a promise from her that she won’t spend their entire trip with her nose buried in a book, and leave to have dinner and a night of frivolity in town.

It’s less that a half an hour later that she hears it. A roaring sound, like a wounded animal, but louder and deeper than any she’d ever heard before. Sally closes her book, setting it down on the porch swing, and stands up. She cranes her neck around and sees it. It’s the thing she saw earlier, the tentacled sea monster from that morning. It’s much closer to shore now, practically beached a quarter mile down the coast. She wraps her sweater tighter around herself, and stares at it. It looks like it’s in pain, but she doesn’t dare go any closer. She knows what monsters are capable of. That’s when she notices the man. 

He’s running up the beach toward the thing, shouting things she can’t understand from so far away, and waving his arms. 

“No! Get back!” she cries, dashing off the porch to run toward him. She’s not sure what he’s seeing. If there’s one thing she’s realized in all these years it’s that most people don’t see what’s really there, when monsters appear. He’s probably seeing a beached whale, or a washed up ship wreck, not the killing machine that’s thrashing about in the low tide. “Stay away! You’ll get yourself killed!” she screams, running so hard her legs burn, stumbling on the sand and struggling to keep going forward. The man looks over at her, a sort of half confused half amused look on his face and walks closer to the thing. He reaches for it. “Don’t!” she yells, tackling him to the sand. She wraps her arms and legs around him, and rolls away from it, soaking them both in the process. He lands beneath her, the breath knocked out of his chest, and she lays on top of him, covering his head with her arms, as tentacles thrash around above them. 

His deep rich laughter freezes her in place. She pulls back, dropping her arms to look into his face. He’s handsome, older than her, with smile lines around his beautiful sea green eyes. His hair is shaggy and dark jet black. 

“You are a brave woman, Sally Jackson,” he says, and his smile makes her heart skip a beat. She blinks at him. He nudges her off of his body, rolling her onto her back in the sand. She lays there staring in confusion as he stands up. He turns to the sea monster. “I said calm down Adrienne. You’ve been through this before. It’s nothing to make a big deal over and I’m here now! Just push!” he orders. The thrashing of tentacles slows, and the thing seems to calm. It makes a low keening sound, and Sally scrambles away. 

“It’s a Scylla isn’t it?” she asks, voice hysterical. “I was just reading about it. It’s horrible!” she cries, crawling further up the beach. The man reaches out to pet a tentacle, and it seems to flutter in pleasure, wrapping around his waist in a half hug. The man turns to look at her. 

“No, not Scylla. This is Adrienne. She’s a good girl,” he says, cooing a little, and petting it again. It shudders moaning. “There you go. One more should be all it needs,” he says. The thing shudders again and the whole body seems to flex, tentacles curling up into the air. There’s a splash behind it and Sally shrieks. There’s another, smaller one. “It’s ok, Sally. It’s just a baby,” he looks the small one over. “A boy!” he says with joy, rubbing the tentacle in affection. The creature seems to preen under his attention. “Bob will be so happy. He needs to nurse. Ready to head back out?” he asks. Adrienne seems to nod, and lets him go. The man backs away, and the creature pushes it’s self back into the deeper water, two tentacles scooping up the squirming baby, and pulling it close. It lifts one tentacle into the air as if waving goodbye. The man returns the gesture, and turns to sit down beside Sally. Together they watch it disappear back into the waves. 

Sally’s shaking in fear and cold, arms wrapped around her knees. The man sitting beside her is practically radiating heat, and she fights the urge to lean into him for warmth and, perhaps, comfort. 

“What was that thing?” she asks, voice cracking with emotion. 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s gone now,” he says. 

“That doesn’t mean it won’t come back. Or some other monster won’t show up. They’re everywhere,” Sally whispers. He leans forward looking at her more intently, as if studying her.

“You aren’t a…” he trails off. Realization spreads across his face. “Ahhh I see. You have the sight,” he says, turning to look back at the ocean, which is still calm and quiet. 

“The sight?” she asks. He nods. 

“You mentioned Scylla. You know your Greek history?” he asks. She blinks at him. 

“I know my Greek Mythology. Or at least some of it. I’m taking a class on it next semester,” she explains. He laughs, and the sound fills Sally with warmth, makes her grin in reply. 

“You are a student?” he asks. She nods. 

“NYU. I want to be a writer,” she says. “So I’m studying the classics. So... Greek mythology?”

“Yes. Greek mythology,” he makes a face. “Greek mythology, Ms. Jackson, is really Greek history. Scylla exists, but that was not she.” Sally’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. 

“How could it be real? I mean Zeus, Mount Olympus, The Titans, Poseidon. They can’t all be real!” she protests. His smile is huge. 

“Be careful, Sally, words have power. Names especially,” he says softly. She blinks, and suddenly his clothes are completely different. The Hawaiian print shirt and Bermuda shorts are changed to Greek Armor, his flip flops to sandals. His fishing cap is gone, replaced by a bronze helm. She passes out, right there in the sand. 

When she wakes up the sun has set, and she’s completely dry. She’s in a bed, a fire going in the hearth of the small, one room cabin. When she stirs, the man steps closer. 

“Here, have some tea,” he offers her a steaming cup. She sits up against the headboard and accepts it from him, drinking cautiously. 

“What are you?” she asks. “Who are you?” His mouth quirks. 

“I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself if you think hard enough and consider all the facts.” Sally considers him for a moment, his clothes are back to the more comfortable looking beach attire he’d been wearing when she first spotted him. She takes in the dark hair, the sea green eyes, thinks back to the beach, how he’d talked too and comforted the mother sea monster. 

“You’re a God,” she whispers, staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace. “You’re the Sea God… Poseidon?” she asks. She turns to look at him. He smiles at her, the lines around his eyes creasing. 

“Yes, Sally, I am,” he watches her closely. Sally’s heart thumps loudly in her chest, and she is sure that this man… Poseidon, she corrects in her head, can hear it from the other side of the room. “You don’t have to fear me.” Sally shakes her head. 

“Yes, I should. You’re a God. You’ve been around thousands of years. You must be extraordinarily powerful. I have every reason in the world to run screaming from the room,” she stops talking, dropping her eyes to stare at her knees. Her eyes catch sight of the watch on her wrist. She gasps jumping up. “It’s 1 in the morning?” she asks. She runs to the window, sees the moon reflecting off the water, and groans in distress. She turns to face him. “My friends, they’ll be worried!” He walks toward her, gripping her wrist gently. 

“Your friends have yet to return from their night out. And when they do they will believe you are safely sleeping in your bedroom,” he explains. Sally calms at his words. 

“But how can that… oh,” she breathes. “You can do anything, can’t you?” she asks looking up into his face. 

“Well, not anything, even Gods have their limits. Though I do have several brothers and numerous nephews that I know would disagree,” he says. She studies his face. His eyes are so beautiful, and his smile is so gentle. How can he be an all-powerful God? She looks away from his face realizing for the first time how close they’re standing. He’s tall she notices, nearly a foot taller than she is, and his shoulders are strong and broad. 

“I should probably go,” she says softly backing up a step. “I’m sure you have more important things to be doing than entertain insignificant mortal girls like me.” 

“Not really,” he says, stepping closer to her, his hand sliding up her forearm to cup her elbow. “Stay.” It’s a gentle command, and Sally’s willpower dissolves. She breathes deep, the smell of salt water and, somehow, a warm summer breeze, makes her head fuzzy and she nods in agreement. 

He leads her to the sofa against the far wall, the fire in the hearth flaring at an invisible prod. He sits down beside her, close but not too close. 

“I can practically hear the questions whipping around in your head like a hurricane, Sally. Ask me and I’ll likely answer. I want you to get to know me,” he says. Sally hesitates for a moment and then begins to ask. 

They talk all night. Sally falls asleep curled up just as the sun starts to come up over the horizon. When she wakes up, Poseidon stands in the open doorway, staring out at the ocean. It’s high tide, early afternoon. Sally stands up, running her hands through her long brown hair, and stretching. She sheds the blanket off her body and walks to stand beside him. The ocean fascinates her, it always has. She loves to watch the water move against the beach. Today the waves seem to reach for the shore as if desperate to make it further in land than usual. It’s reaching for Poseidon she suddenly realizes. 

“You have to go. Don’t you?” she asks. He looks at her but doesn’t answer. She nods. “You’re important. Even I can see it’s calling for you to come back. It was nice meeting you.” 

“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” he asks. She blinks in surprise. 

“Of course. But are you sure you’ll be able to make it?” He laughs. 

“I think I can handle a dinner date, Sally. For now, I must go. I promise no more sea monsters while I’m gone. I’ll give them a talking too,” he steps out into the sand, and she follows, closing the door. 

“Be safe,” she says quietly. He grins at her, amused, walking straight to the water. She watches intently as he steps into the surf, and the water laps up his legs like it’s welcoming him home. He gets to about knee deep and when she blinks he’s gone. She takes a deep breath, and turns to head up the beach back to her friends, and her real life. 

Vanessa greets her with a hug, asking how her walk went. Sally laughs, and her friends look at her like she’s crazy. 

“My walk... *giggle giggle*… was perfect!” she proclaims, running up to the front door to shower and change. 

The girls catch on fast. When she gets back to her room after her shower, she finds Becky and Trini lounging on her bed, and Vanessa leaning against the window ledge, big grins on their faces. 

“You met a guy!” Becky exclaims, bouncing up off the bed. Sally grins, twirling in her towel, brown hair hanging wet around her shoulders. She dances to the closet. 

“Seriously?” Vanessa asks. Sally nods still smiling. 

“Well? Tell us everything!” Trini says sitting against the headboard and pulling a pillow into her lap.

“He’s… he’s amazing!” Sally says. “He’s tall, dark, handsome. He’s so gentle, but so charming. And he’s just,” she sighs. “He’s perfect,” she says quietly. 

“When are you seeing him again?” June asks, stepping into the room behind Sally, and closing the door. Sally pulls a sweater and a pair of jeans out of the closet. 

“Tomorrow night. He’s taking me to dinner,” she says, sitting down on the end of the bed. Then she frowns. “I have nothing to wear on a date!” she says. And so the frenzy begins. The five of them go room to room, ransacking bags, closets, and dressers to find the perfect thing. Which ends up being tight jeans from Becky’s bag, a form fitting sweater from June’s closet, and heels from Vanessa’s suitcase. They set the clothes aside, and drag Sally down stairs to have dinner with the boys, who have been waiting rather impatiently for them to reemerge. They go through 4 pizzas between the 8 of them. 

Sally knows it’s silly to think of it as a real date. She knows it isn’t. Not really. It can’t be. He’s an immortal Greek God. She’s a 20 year old college student who wants to be a writer. But when she thinks about the next night, her stomach flutters and her palms sweat. Sally gets talked into going out dancing with the whole crowd later that night. But she spends the whole evening wishing the time would go by faster. When she gets back to the house after midnight, she goes to her room and hides under her bed covers with a flashlight and every Greek Mythology book she’s brought with her scouring them for every mention of Poseidon she can find. She has a whole list of things to pick his brain about. So many things she wants to ask and talk about. She falls asleep with her face planted in a textbook. 

 

The next day drags on. It’s unseasonably warm, but still too cold to swim. Sally ends up lying in a sun-faded deckchair in the sand, an umbrella blocking most of the sun’s rays, watching the ocean come in and retreat, over and over all day long. Poseidon keeps his promise. She doesn’t notice a single tentacle for as far as her eyes can see. June and Becky come with her, and at midday when the sun is at its highest, and warmest, they convince her to put away her books and climb out from under the beach umbrella. The three of them strip down to their swimsuits, and spend a solid hour tanning and talking about boys. After that she’s shuffled inside to shower and start primping. Sally wonders briefly how she became friends with such pushy girls, but puts the thought aside. They’re all good people, solid, reliable friends. So she lets Becky mess with her hair and Vanessa do her make-up, while Trini debates with June over whether her outfit is slutty enough or not. 

By six she is ready to go and waiting. Everyone insists on waiting with her, so she ends up perching on the living room couch wringing her hands and staring at the clock, her friends surrounding her. She feels nauseated but jittery with excitement at the same time. Poseidon had never given her a specific time and it has her nervous, and her friends worried. At five 'til seven, there’s a knock on the door. 

He looks amazing. His board shorts have been traded in for jeans, and his Hawaiian print shirt for a slightly less obnoxiously loud Hawaiian print shirt. His feet are still in sandals, but she can’t say that she minds. He holds a flower out to her and calls her beautiful. She blushes at the compliment and takes the flower. 

“It’s so pretty. I’ve never seen anything like it before,” she studies the flower carefully. It has 5 oddly shaped petals, all of them a color somewhere between purple and magenta pink. She looks back up at his face. 

“It’s called a Sea Rose,” he explains. And her answering smile makes him smile in return. 

He’s nothing but a perfect gentleman the whole evening. He special orders wine, and seafood for dinner. She’s halfway through her lobster when a stray thought stops her in her tracks. 

“Something the matter?” he asks. She looks at the lobster and then at him, face distraught. 

“This lobster,” she says, “he wasn’t a friend of yours was he?” she asks. His laughter bursts forth loud and warm, startling the patrons at nearby tables. 

“No, Sally. Not a friend of mine,” he assures her. She feels her face going red and he shakes his head at her, shaggy hair moving with the motion. “Don’t be embarrassed. It was a legitimate question. If eating seafood bothered me, I assure you I would not have brought you here,” he tells her. She blushes again, playing with the napkin in her lap. “What you have to remember about the sea, is that it is an ecosystem. There’s a life cycle that’s part of how the underwater world works. Things die, things eat other things. Very little that lives in my realm is immortal. And those that aren’t are usually not functioning at a high enough brain capacity to consider them friends, or even acquaintances. Lobsters don’t think like higher life forms. I can’t talk to them like I can Adrienne for example. They will follow my commands because their instincts force them too. It’s not a conscious choice.” Sally nods, his words making sense. “Now tell me more about yourself,” he says, digging into his shrimp scampi. So she does. 

She tells him about her parents, and her life in the city. About school, and writing, and why she loves the beach. Her whole face glows when she talks about the ocean, her trips there as a child, how she loves the waves. And she tells him about the monsters. About seeing them her whole life and no one ever believing her. He frowns, looking sad at the hardship the sight has caused her. 

“It’s the mist, Sally,” he explains. “It’s there to keep my world hidden from yours. Very few can see through it so clearly. Most humans can walk right past a monster and never notice it. The mist convincing them they’re seeing something completely different, or even nothing at all.” 

They finish their dinner over quiet conversation and then walk back out to the beach. They walk along the surf, heading toward the rental cabins where Sally is staying with her friends. Poseidon walks ankle deep in the water, the waves lapping high on his ankles and up to his calves as he walks along the shore. Sally stares at his feet, stepping closer, and letting out a sound of surprise. He glances at her in the moonlight. 

“Sally?” he asks. “What’s wrong?” She grins. 

“It just surprised me. The water is so warm here, it should be frigid in December,” she says adjusting her grip on the heels she carries in one hand. 

“That’s my fault. The water wants to please me,” he says, voice soft and kind. She smiles, and doesn’t look away when his hand finds hers. 

The house is dark and silent as they approach, Trini and Vanessa and the whole lot, probably out at another club. Sally shakes her head as they continue past it. She doesn’t understand why they go all the way to the beach to spend most of the free time partying like they’re still in the city. 

When they get to the house, she keeps walking. Not slowing or stopping her forward momentum. She doesn’t want to relinquish her grip on Poseidon’s hand. Not yet.

They reach his cabin, and she steps inside at the offer of wine and the promise of a fire in the hearth.

She’s not sure how it happens. Who makes the first move, or whether she makes a conscious decision to go through with it or not. All she knows is he is kind and gentle and handsome. And he’s powerful. It’s not just a physical power. Yes, he’s strong and well-built. He has thick broad shoulders, and muscled everything else, but it’s something more. He has an aurora about him that radiates strength and nearly crackles with energy. When he presses his mouth to hers for the first time she’s lost in an instant. 

He pulls her to him, and she knows she can’t deny him anything. She’s his, and for at least this one night he is hers. 

The cabin is warm, the fire in the fireplace bright and flickering. It’s yellow light makes his eyes seem impossibly greener, his skin tanner. She feels pale in comparison, ordinary, dull. But he must see something else in her, because his eyes never waver from her. They trace her skin and the lines of her body like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like she’s special. Like she’s beautiful. And he’s perfect, everything you’d expect a Greek God to be. 

Sally’s not a virgin. She’s had two boyfriends. One from 16 to 17, and another from 18 to 19, and at 20, she’s no stranger to sex. But nothing before has ever been like this. 

His skin is warm against hers, his erection generous inside her. He starts slow, mouth trailing across the skin of her face and shoulders, her neck and her breasts like he’s trying to taste every inch of her salty skin. His thrusts are deep and languid, like low tide, rolling between her thighs with a steady rhythm that makes her moan and clutch him closer. But they don’t stay that way. They pick up their pace, crashing over her with more strength and a faster speed. She grips his shoulders, tossing her head back, as he presses deeper, rubbing inside her just the way she needs him too. He cries out, face contorted with restrained passion, and she groans. 

“More,” she pleads, skin slick with sweat and want. His eyes focus on hers, and he stares down at her. 

“Sally?” he whispers, voice deep and full of concern. She shakes her head, crying out as another thrust hits her just right. 

“More, please!” she cries, scrabbling at his shoulders, to pull his body to hers. He grins, planting one arm behind her on the thick mattress. He presses away from her with his upper body, shifting the angle, and spreading his knees. Her thighs follow the motion, stretching further apart, her heels skidding down the back of his legs. The flat of her feet coming to rest on the curves of his calves. She presses down with them, pinning his legs in place, and pressing up with her hips, rolling up into his next thrust. He goes a fraction deeper, his thrust that much harder at her counter motion, and she cries out with the pleasure. He laughs, the sound breathy and deep, rumbling through him like thunder. His free hand slides up from her hip, following the flat of her belly, up along the valley of her breasts to cradle the back of her neck. She strains closer to him, long dark hair hanging down behind her. She’s suspended in mid-air, her arms tight around his shoulders, feed planted on the back of his legs, and her body pressing up into his with each inward dive of hips to hips. 

She cries out with every move he makes, voice growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. When she comes it rolls through her in waves, turning her muscles to jelly. She tightens around him in the moment, crying out his name in pained pleasure, before collapsing pliant and content against the blankets. He follows her down, breathing her name as he comes against her, inside of her. His mouth pressed to her neck as she fights to catch her breath. 

“Earthshaker,” she whispers, awed and giddy with the power of her orgasm. Poseidon’s loud laughter rumbles through his chest and into hers, echoing in the small cabin.

 

Sally wakes up at dawn. She’s alone in the bed. But the fire has been recently tended too, and the side of the bed where Poseidon had lain is still warm. She sits up, pulling on the discarded Hawaiian shirt she finds on the floor, and going to the window. 

He’s standing knee deep in the water, bent at the waist so his hands are submerged past his wrists. His eyes are trained on the horizon, watching the first rays of the sun shoot across the sky. Sally has brief thoughts about Apollo the Sun God, and his golden chariot, before focusing her eyes back on Poseidon. He looks distracted. Stepping out the door, and closing it quietly behind her she looks back toward him and finds his eyes on her. He’s smiling, standing up straight again, and she feels her breath catch in her throat. He’s shirtless, wearing just his board shorts, and nothing else. She walks toward him, feet sinking in the cool sand, a cold breeze making her shiver. He meets her where the sand meets the water, and as soon as she gets close enough to touch, she steps into a bubble of pure warmth. He grins at her, pulling her to his chest, their feet sinking deeper with each passing wave of unnaturally warm water.

“Did you sleep well? I did not mean to wake you,” he says, and his hand pushes her hair back out of her face. She feels suddenly shy, unsure how to act toward him. It’s the water that’s throwing her. It’s reminding her with every lap of warmth around her ankles that the man pulling her closer, with the rough callused hands, and sea green eyes is not an ordinary man. He’s a God. A living breathing immortal. 

“Yes. I slept great. You didn’t wake me,” she turns her head watching the sky turning red and fiery orange with the rising sun. “You have to leave again don’t you?” she asks, throat closing. Somehow she doesn’t think he’ll be able to come straight back this time. And her vacation is almost over anyway. His hands slide up her back, reaching around to cup her face, pulling it back around to face him. His eyes look sad, older than they had before. 

“Yes, but not for a little while yet,” he says, voice gentle. He tilts her chin up with gentle pressure and bends to kiss her. It’s a soft kiss, warm and careful. “Sit with me?” he asks. She nods, letting him pull her down to sit right there in the middle of the surf. She ends up in his lap, sitting with her back pressed to his chest, and his arms around her. She leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder, as they watch a rainbow of colors filter across the sky. 

“Tell me about Olympus. The mountain top kingdom in the clouds. Can humans go there?” she asks. He hums shaking his head. 

“No. Only Gods and demi-gods,” he says. She smiles. 

“And is it beautiful there?” she asks. 

“Yes. Full of art and music and all that is good in my world. But it also filled with arrogance, and infighting, and flashes of temper. I spend little time there. I have my own palace, an entire kingdom under the sea. There I am Lord and Master, not my brother.” She nods, she doesn’t say Zeus’s name. He’s warned her about the power of names. 

“Demi-gods,” she ponders. “Are there still demi-gods walking the Earth? They aren’t immortal are they? Do the Gods still have children, even after all this time?” she asks. He chuckles. 

“Yes. New demi-gods are born every year. Most of the Gods have them, with the exception perhaps of Artemis and Hera. No they aren’t immortal. As much as I wish more of them could be, that is a reward that is not given lightly.” 

“Do…” she pauses. “Do you have any demi-god children?” she asks. “Currently?” Poseidon smiles into her hair, nosing it out of the way kiss the back of her neck. 

“Currently? No. All my demi-god children who were not granted immortality have passed on,” he sounds sad as he says it and Sally presses closer, wiggling her toes in the sand. His legs bracket hers, keeping her warm and close. Even the wind doesn’t touch her with his arms keeping her so close. They sit in silence, and Sally closes her eyes, leaning into him again, tilting her back and to the side, wanting to enjoy this moment. He kisses her again, lips exploring the line of her throat and up along the line of her jaw. She sighs, relaxing against him, the fingers of one of her hands threading through his. “You are so beautiful, Sally Jackson,” he murmurs, kissing down to the open collar of the too big shirt she wears. She moans, suddenly acutely aware of everywhere he touches her. His thighs pressing against her bare ones, her ass fitted firmly back against his crotch, where his erection has started to grow hard once more. She licks her lips, undulating against him. 

“Take me,” she whispers, blinking her eyes open to look at him. He pulls back to look at her, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other gripping hers. His face is questioning. “Take me one more time before you leave me,” she pleads. His brow furrows, and instead of answering her he hauls her body closer to his own, lifting her higher into his lap. He tugs her around so she sits facing him, and takes her mouth with his. 

Time skips. She doesn’t know if it’s something he does, or if her brain just can’t process every moment where he’s making her feel this good. There are flashes she’ll cling to later. Him spreading her out under him on the sand, the surf flowing up and around them like a warm wet embrace. It flows over her skin in a way it never has before, like the ocean is making love with her too, not just this man-god on top of, around, inside her. She locks her ankles together behind his back, the restriction keeping his thrusts shallow but deep. His erection rubs against her clit with each press inside, and the water surrounding them rubs everywhere else. She cries out, her mouth breaking from his as she moans in pleasure. The water… it feels like a million hands touching her everywhere. But mostly it’s him. It’s Poseidon pressing inside her, filling her up, and making her moan.

When she finally can take no more she comes, her body clenching on his, and making him groan, his mouth pressed directly over her heart, as she arches up against him. He stills inside her, hands holding her close, as she trembles against him. She picks her head up, looking up at his face with hungry pleading eyes. He’s still hard inside her. He hasn’t reached his peak yet. She reaches behind herself, planting one hand in the shifting sand to push herself up. He sits back, arms bringing her with him, and she finds herself straddling his lap, the surf still moving slowly, comfortingly around them. 

“Poseidon,” she whispers. “So perfect,” she presses a wet hand to the side of his face, watches his eyes flutter closed. She moves in his embrace tilting and turning him until it’s him lying flat on his back in the sand. He looks up at her amused, as she presses him down. She braces herself on his shoulders, using them as leverage as she pushes up dragging her hips up off of his, his erection still inside her. She closes her eyes at the sweet movement, dropping her pelvis back down on his, and feeling his dick press deep. She moans, and feels/hears his deep groan. His chest rumbles with it, his hands gripping her hips to guide the movement. 

She smiles, dragging herself up again and then pressing down once more. She cries out again, the pleasure threatening to shake her apart. The water surges then and she wonders if it’s his doing, or if the ocean, the tide itself, has a mind of its own. The water engulfs them, filling up all the spaces where they don’t touch. It surges toward the beach, lifting her with its momentum, before retreating and releasing her to slide back down on the hard steel inside of her. She cries out, and the water is back, lifting her in its warm pleasing embrace before lowering her again to slide once more onto Poseidon’s dick. She puts her head back and moans, incoherent with the assault on her senses. 

“Sally,” Poseidon murmurs, hands sliding up from her round hips to cup her breasts. He sits up beneath her, their movement uninterrupted as he presses his lips to first one hard nipple, than the other. She cries out again, thankful suddenly for the mist and for the early hour. 

One of his hands massages her left breast, the other hand cradling her head. She turns her head where it rests in his palm, pulling his thumb into her mouth, and groaning at the way his hips lift unexpectedly up against hers. She laughs, overcome with joy and passion and want. She’s never felt so wanted, so loved, so uninhibited. 

She doesn’t know how long it goes on. It could be minutes or hours or days. But when she finally comes, she takes him over the edge with her, and she finds herself collapsed against his chest, exhausted and pliant, his hands locked around her body, holding her tight. 

 

He leaves when the sun is at its highest position in the sky. Sally doesn’t cry. He’s a freaking GREEK GOD, she tells herself. He was never hers to have forever. Not even for long term. She tells herself to be grateful she got the time she did to spend with him. To learn what she could, and feel what she had. She kisses him goodbye, and he seems reluctant to leave. 

“I have to go,” he says quietly. She nods, pressed to his chest, his arms tight around her. Her hair is down, long and loose, moving in the breeze coming off the water. 

“I know,” she says with a genuine smile. “You have oceans to command, an entire realm to rule over.” He smiles at her and it makes her breath quicken. “I guess I’ll never see you again?” she says, eyes leaving his. She’s afraid of his reply. 

“No. You’ll see me again,” he says and her joy floods her body so fast she sways against him. 

“I will?” she asks. He nods. 

“Spend the summer with me,” he says. “Here in this cabin. I have so much I need to tell you. To teach you.” She looks at him confused. 

“I don’t know if I can. I have school. Work. I can’t just not work the entire summer. I’ll lose my job,” she says quietly. 

“I’ll take care of that. But please, Sally. There’s so much you’ll need to know. For the baby,” he says. 

“Baby?” she asks, stepping back a little. “What baby?” His smile is bright like the sun. 

“Our son,” he says and he reaches for her again. 

“Son?” she asks quietly. She doesn’t know why she just keeps repeating everything he says to her. 

“Yes. He’s going to be very important. I must go. Take care of yourself, Sally,” he says touching the side of her face. She nods, a little shocked a little confused. He kisses her again, “I’ll see you in the summer. Don’t forget.” And then he’s gone and she’s left sitting on the beach, hands pressed to her flat tummy staring at the rolling waves, a smile on her face.

**Author's Note:**

> Not necessarily 100% canonical with the timeline. But I think allowances should be made. Since Sally says she had "one summer, that beach, that cabin" with Poseidon, but Percy is born at the end of the summer, with his birthday taking place right after he usually returns from camp.. so unless somehow her pregnancy was shorted to only 3-4 months long, Rick made a boo-boo.


End file.
